Himitsu
by Arkaidy
Summary: A series of vingettes. Elizabeth Weir used to have another name, and another life. She used to save people a lot in that one too. Only, in a much shorter skirt.
1. Hanshin

Hanshin  
By Vega

_Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

_

Sometimes, Doctor Elizabeth Weir takes it out of her desk and just holds it.

She turns it over slowly in the light of her table top lamp, watching the fluorescent reflection glide up the blue, blue handle, twinkle along the rounded edges of the stylized star. She'll run her fingers over the gold embossed emblem in the centre.

The symbol of a home long gone. Another marvellous city long dead.

Destroyed by those who sought to wipe out the last of the Ancients who fled to Atlantis. For a while they'd had peace. A millennium of it. But no peace lasts...

That'll make her think, because it always makes her think. She'll think about what it would be like to use it again, just one more time.

That leads to memories. Memories of a time when she _did _use it, frequently. Of her first real friendship, of the shock of meeting a verbose cat, of the rush of sensation that came with finally belonging somewhere. All her life, she had longed to belong. Her father was gone. Her mother was always working at the hospital. Providing for her, yes, in money. But never in time.

She never had anywhere to belong before this came into her life.

She used to study. She used to do nothing but study. The kids teased her and she hid behind books, because it was easier than listening to what they said. Everyone who ever wanted to speak to her, she shut out. She hid. And they went away.

All but one.

That one didn't take one look at the cover of the maths book and run to play soccer.

That one plucked the book out of her hand and gave her something else. That friend gave Elizabeth her hand, her heart, her trust. Her honesty.

And this.

Then Elizabeth's thoughts will turn to the past. Back to a time before she was called Elizabeth. She'll think of the battles fought, and mostly won. They'll turn to her first real boyfriend, a fellow student who could see the future. They'll linger on the gasping rush of her first transformation. The sudden sense of _rightness_ when all the memories came rushing back along with the blue, blue, blue calmness of her soul.

She fought for the ranking officer's uniforms on Atlantis to be blue. She missed wearing blue. But the SGC wanted them red. Science got to wear blue. Medical in yellow.

Elizabeth remembers wanting to be a pediatrician when she was in high school.

But then things happened, so many things that Elizabeth could never talk about with anyone on Atlantis, because who would believe her? Those things made her want to be a diplomat instead. To solve problems before they became battles.

Because she had lived (and died) in enough battles.

Oh, what a surprise it had been, to be back in the Antarctic. "We're sending you somewhere cold," General Hammond had said, and Elizabeth didn't deign to tell him that no where could be as cold as the far side of the negamoon.

When she got to the Ancients base, the first thing Elizabeth did was close her eyes and reach out with the thing that made her what she was. Gone, gone. The blackness was dead, and this place was empty.

Though it made the corner of her lip curl upwards when McKay looked at the scorch mark on the ground where Kunzite had perished and then disintegrated and scuffed it with his toe and wondered what the hell the greasiness was.

Elizabeth'd had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle/scream that had threatened.

"It may come as a shock to you," someone had told her when she was being debriefed to take over for Hammond, "but there are aliens out there."

Elizabeth had smiled, and nodded, because she couldn't exactly say, "I know, I've fought a bunch of them. Oh, I'm one too, by the way. Or was, last reincarnation."

She had known back in junior high school, when she had first learned to make fog with a thought. All this time, she had thought that what she could do was magic. What all of them could do.

She didn't have the heart to tell the others.

Let them think it was still magic. Let them call it the power of the crystal, of their pure hearts. Elizabeth knew now that it was the ATA gene. And probably something, she theorized, in their blood that gave them this control over the elements. Nanites, possibly.

How many times had she been tempted to tell McKay?

He didn't have to keep searching Atlantis for Ancients. There was one among them. True, she was reborn, but that was the 'magic' of the silver crystal, wasn't it? The princesses, the rulers of the Time Long Ago, the Ancients on the Moon, were destined to be reborn, and reborn, and reborn again, warriors sent to protect the humans of Earth from evils far worse than the Wraith.

Evils that they had lost to in her first life. Evils that they had destroyed in her second. Evils that slumbered and waited until her third and her fourth, and all the ones that she vaguely knew about, which took place in a time when all of the Earth knew the technology of the Ancients and her best friend was the Queen of Crystal Tokyo.

The Princess in the Tower.

A world yet to find. To make.

That she was making, right here and now.

And when Elizabeth Weir was finished thinking about short skirts and knee boots and princesses and magic and evil monsters and powerful crystals, she would put it away in her desk drawer and go back to her game of solitaire on her laptop.

She's always tempted.

Tempted to send a message to her friends back in Tokyo – and who needs the Stargate or the _Daedalus_ to do it when you're Elizabeth Weir? – and tell them of Atlantis. Even bring them here, maybe. See what they could turn on. Add them to the teams.

The Silver Milleneum could be reborn in this city. City on water, _her _place this time. A city so like the one on the moon, but in her element now.

But no, they deserved a rest. They had fought enough in this life, and who knew what was waiting in the next?

She was also tempted to sit Carson Beckett and Rodney McKay and John Sheppard down and tell them all about magical super heroines and transformation wands.

Instead, she glances in the mirror on her desk and checks to see if her roots need a touch up, just to make sure no blue appears (an unfortunate side effect of her heritage), and chews on her thumbnail for a moment, and sighs.

And then she'll offer up a small little prayer to her starseed that no situation becomes horrible enough on Atlantis that she's forced to use the thing in her drawer. That she's never so desperate that she becomes a _weapon _again, instead of a _talker._

She'd love to feel the rush of power again, the command of ice and water.

The sense of rightness.

But she couldn't stand to think of McKay's _whining_ when she'll refuse to let him dissect it.

* * *

"_Stargate: Atlantis" and all related concepts and characters are copyright MGM. "SailorMoon" and all related concepts and characters are copyright Naoko Takeuchi, Kodansha, and DiC._

_"Hanshin" translates roughly as "Transformation". A "himitsu" is a secret._


	2. Iraira

Iraira

Elizabeth Weir knew that it would just be a matter of time.

Eventually, she knew she'd have no choice.

Today had been that day.

"But, the miniskirt?" John said. He'd being repeating a variation on this theme for the past hour.

Since the last of the Wraith invading the city had been frozen in the last blast she could manage, and then kicked to little pieces by the marines.

John's eyes didn't seem to be focussing, and Elizabeth wondered if it was because of the hit in the head from the Wraith stunner, or her boots that were the problem.

Elizabeth decided to turn her eyes elsewhere. On the other end of the table, Rodney was looking at her like she'd kicked his puppy.

"All this time," he said, and his voice was edging close to hysterical whining. "_All this time."_ He pointed accusingly at the blue visor of projected energy that arched in front of her face, still half-heartedly giving readouts in Ancient script. "You _had _a life-signs detector that new the difference between us and the Wraith!"

"Miniskirt," John added, feeling the need to also voice his disapproval over the visor.

Elizabeth slumped slightly on her perch on the conference room table. Only the heads of each section were present at this first flaming – Science, Military, Medicine. And her.

She picked at the scorched tatter of a finger on her left glove with the fingers of her right. Her choker was itchy, and she didn't remember it being so tight when she was younger.

"An' how did I miss this in your bloodwork?" Carson asked, also clearly upset.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Whatever it is that gives me this power, it's small. Smaller than nanites, I think."

"But ya dunna know?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't remember _everything _from my first life."

"Okay, okay, okay, so let's pretend that we're not caring about why you can do what you can do just yet, _because we're not_," Rodney barged in. "And go back to the part where you _didn't tell us._"

The sheer anger in his voice made Elizabeth wince.

"We promised," she said, and for her it was as simple as that. "Setsuna-san – that's Pluto – she made us all swear on the Time Key. When we went our separate ways, we left the Senshi behind. We talked about it, and agreed. There could be no vigilantes, no hysterical mobs." _No more comics, _she added, for herself. "I kept my promise when I moved to America and started over. Sailor Mercury ceased to exist the same day as Mizuno Ami. I'm Elizabeth Weir now, and I can't use what I am to make things go the way I want. Even in the Pegasus Galaxy. I am a _diplomat_, not a fighter."

Rodney's lips twisted together in a betrayed white line. "Ford was nearly killed. _I _was nearly killed! We all were! So many people have died, Elizabeth, and you _could have saved them._"

That was enough.

It had been a hard day. Stressful. Emotionally upheaving.

Elizabeth had reached the end of her rope.

"Stop it!" she screamed. She squeezed her eyes shut and jammed the heels of her hands against her ears. "Stop it! Don't you think I know this? Don't you think I feel guilty? Every death, every person I have to write letters to the next of kin for, don't you think it _tears me up inside_? Knowing that if I'd been there, if I had just _used _it..."

And then she was sobbing, crying like she hadn't since they'd taken Greg away. Since Princess Serenity had died the first time. Since Nephrite had writhed in agony, dying in the arms of the girl who'd taught him human love.

"So, why didn't you?" Rodney growled.

And, oh, he had every right to be this angry.

His anger muffled her tears, put a stopper on her personal agony. She sniffed, once, long, and wiped the tears on her cheeks away with the back of her gloves.

She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye, blue for blue.

"Because I'm not a _weapon_," Elizabeth said. "I am a _person._"

There was a short silence in the room.

Rodney swallowed once.

Then, he said: "Well, we're using you now." One last accusatory finger pointed in her face. "The shielding, the teleportation, the transformation, and the element manipulation. And the visor thing. You'll show me how you do it and we'll figure out how to use it. We've got enough ocean on this rock to mimic that ice shield a hundred fold bigger."

Carson smacked Rodney in the arm. "Elizabeth isna a lab rat!"

"No, but she's an Ancient," Rodney bit back. "And we _need _that. We'll figure out how you do it and try to replicate it outside of the _senshi _environment."

"But you won't use me as a one-woman ZPM?" Elizabeth asked softly, her voice trembling with the admission of her truest fear.

Rodney scoffed. "Of course not," he said in his 'you are an idiot gnome' voice. "That's moronic. Who would run Atlantis?"

And then he stalked out of the room because he'd said what he'd needed to say. Rodney never stayed longer anywhere than it took for him to saw what he wanted.

Elizabeth let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Rodney was a good man. Even though he tried very hard to make people think otherwise.

Carson also stood, and patted her shoulder comfortingly. "You did a good job today, luv. I'm glad you decided to trust Atlantis with yer secret."

Elizabeth felt the corner of her mouth twitch. "Atlantis already knew. This city is more sentient than you know – like the Doom Tree. It was _you_ I was hiding from."

Carson bent and kissed her cheek softly. "Then thanks for savin' _my _life," he said, and then he too was headed for the door. "See you in the infirmary after ye've had some sleep... your majesty." He gave her a twinkling grin, and Elizabeth only half regretted telling them that she was a Princess. It wasn't bad, as far as teasing nicknames went. "We'll go over yer bloodwork again then."

That left her, in her silly sailor outfit (and how did she ever think it was cool when she was a teenager?), sitting on the conference table, across from the commanding officer of the military division.

"John?" she said.

Her voice said his name but her eyes asked if he was still angry. He had been fuming when she had finished the first transformation sequence she'd undergone since she was in university. Livid when he saw her fill the room with fog with a mere hand gesture.

He was so still.

Maybe he was still furious.

"But," John replied to her unspoken question, his hazel eyes still unfocussed and confused, "_miniskirt._"

* * *

_"Iraira" is the emotion of frustrated anger._


	3. Hajimemashite

Hajimemashite

Elizabeth Weir sucked in a breath and watched as the wormhole rippled. John Sheppard, down on the floor of the gateroom, watched her with not a little sympathy. She ran her hands through her hair, which she only did when she was very very nervous. It was blue again, her natural colour for the first time in nearly twenty years.

"Incoming travelers," the Canadian guy at the control console said.

He needn't have said anything. Elizabeth already knew. She could feel them coming. The others.

The event-horizon pulsed, and no one in the control or gaterooms made a sound.

The soft click of boots in the vast foyer was sharp and nostalgic. One, two, three, four, five figures appeared. Behind them, the glow of the wormhole dissipated, and there they were. Her friends.

Her _friends_.

Elizabeth couldn't hold it in one second longer.

"_Minna-san!"_ she yelped, startling everyone in the control room by jumping over the balcony and landing with perfect, inhuman grace. She threw herself at the group, and they squealed, practically in unison, "_Ami-chan!"_

And then it was high-speed Japanese babble and frantic hugs and tears in eyes.

Five women in their late thirties jumping up and down and screaming like school children. And one man in a dapper suit with a rose on his lapel, smiling gently at the display.

John Sheppard zoomed in on the man and, deciding he was in need of some non-estrogen form of greeting, walked up to him and stuck out a hand.

"Hello," he said, "I'm Lt. Colonel Sheppard, head of security on Atlantis. Welcome to the City of the Ancients."

Beside him, Doctor Miko squeaked out an awed Japanese translation.

The man in the suit bowed low and said, in grave Japanese, "_Hajimemashite._" Then, in unaccented English, he added, "I'm Chiba Mamoru. They call me codename _Tuxedo Kamen. _Please do not be shocked – I studied university in England." He turned to Dr. Miko and offered her a warm grin. "But please translate for my wife. Her English is horrid."

John scratched the side of his nose and asked, "Which one is your wife?"

"Blonde hair," he said, "In the middle. With the... _odango_."

"Odango?" John repeated.

Chiba-san made a gesture to mimic the two buns on the top of one woman's head. "Meatballs. Just a moment, _Usagi-chan? Hai, sumimasen. Chotto matte, kudai. Kono hito wa _Jo-hn Shi-par-do_-san desu._"

"_Hajimemashite_," the woman with the long blonde pigtails said formally and bowed to John. The rest of the 'team' followed suit, with Elizabeth standing in the back and looking smug.

"Hamu-gee-mashy," John said in reply, bowing lower, secretly proud of his Japanese accent.

"Miko-san," Elizabeth said, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "Would you please show our guests their quarters, and then bring them to the mess hall?"

Miko nodded, and, her eyes even wider than before, began to lead the five Japanese people out of the gate room. John didn't see why she was so cowed by them. They looked perfectly normal to him, though he didn't suppose blonde hair and purple eyes were common in Japan.

Feeling sorry for Miko, John waved bye-bye to Elizabeth and ran to catch up with the doctor.

"What's wrong?" he asked as they lead the guests up the stairs.

"It's the _Sailor Senshi_," Miko squeaked. "I grew up on stories of them. I watched them on television. Read about them in the newspapers. I even used to collect all the Codename V _manga_."

Chiba's wife, Usagi, perked up. "_See-ra V ga suki desu ka? Watashi mo!" _she cackled, and Miko was suddenly less cowed, having found a common topic of conversation with Usagi. What the conversation was about, John had no idea.

Then he wondered if all Japanese ladies talked this fast in such high falsetto.

He couldn't imagine Elizabeth babbling like that. Even when she was younger.

Just to his left, the other blonde smiled, a little pained, and said, "They're talking about the Sailor V comics. They were based on ...well, me. They were Usagi-chan's favourite when we were still fighting."

"About you?" John asked. "She read comics about her friends? About herself?"

"Usa-chan is weird that way," the woman offered with a shrug. "I'm Aino Minako."

"Your English is excellent, too," John said, shaking her hand.

"I was born in England," Minako said.

John felt like an idiot. "Oh," he said. Then he said, "So you guys used to kick some serious alien ass?"

Minako laughed, and it was a twinkly, flirty kind of laugh. "Yes. Between pop quizzes."

"I can't imagine Elizabeth doing it," John admitted. "It seems too... physical."

Minako nodded. "Ami-chan was always more subdued than us. She was a better defensive fighter. Good at protecting people who may get hurt."

"Huh," John said. "Not much has changed, then."

"I'm eager to have a go at these so-called Wraith," Minako admitted. "It's been a long time since we've had a good fight. They sound like glorified Cardians to me. No problem."

John smiled. Minako seemed to be his sort of girl.

"What planet is your patron?" He asked.

"Venus," she said. "I'm the Soldier of Love."

John raised an eyebrow. "Love, you say?"

She did the twinkly thing again. He looked at her legs in her SGC-issue BDUs and imagined them long and bare with those lovely come-fuck-me boots that Elizabeth'd had when she transformed.

"Did you used to wear a miniskirt too?" John asked.

She nodded.

John thought that this was possibly the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

_"Hajimemashite" is a greeting given upon meeting someone for the first time. It is a formal way of saying, Im pleased to meet you this first time, please be kind towards me._


	4. Itadakemasu

Itadakemasu

Rodney McKay didn't really appreciate the _Sailor Senshi _as anything more than glorified Ancients until the day that the first piece of perfect, wonderful _sashimi _quivered delectably on the platter under his nose.

He looked up from the plate, which had jumped into his line of sight, cutting him off from his notes, tried very hard not to salivate out the side of his mouth, and scowled at Dr. Miko, who was holding it.

"What's this?" he said.

"_Sashimi,_" she offered with a small frown right between her eyebrows. "Raw fish."

"I know what _sashimi _is," Rodney snapped. "I mean, what is it? Where did it come from?"

"Ah," Dr. Miko said softly. "Kino Makoto-san made it."

Rodneys mouth twisted to the side. "Sailor Jupiter?"

Miko made a sort of frustrated squeaking sigh and said, "They wish you to call them by their real names. You make them sound like _exparaments_."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Rodney said, eyes and focus back on the _sashimi_. "She made this?"

"Kino-san is a professional chef," Miko said. "She has two restaurants and a bakery in Tokyo. She made this for you. She says you work too hard." Miko made a face that suggested that she found Kino-sans worry for Rodney slightly unpalatable.

"Where did she get the fish?" Rodney asked, fingers twitching in the frustrated urge to just snatch the plate away from Miko _right now._

Miko sighed and put the plate down right on top of his paperwork, obviously sick of holding it. "We are in a city in the middle of an ocean, Doctor McKay," she said, in a voice that clearly translated her exasperation. "Please eat it, or Kino-san will be insulted."

One last question held Rodney back. "Is there any citrus on it?"

Miko gave him a sideways look. "Kino-san knows you are allergic. All of Atlantis does."

"Oh, good," Rodney said, and didn't wait another second.

The _sashimi_ was in his mouth, snap, snap, and then on it's wonderful, melty way down to his tummy.

"Oh," he said, in what was almost a groan. "I think Im in love."

Dr. Miko let out a decidedly un-Japanese snort. "Do not let Kino-san hear you say that," she cautioned.

Rodney licked his lips, looked mournfully at the empty dish, and said, "Why not?" He thought he ought to be vaguely insulted. He could love a woman who made him dinner very easily, he thought. He could even deal with the lack of blonde.

Miko patted his shoulder. "Kino-san says you remind her of her _sempai_. Her old boyfriend."

Rodney squinched his eyes for a moment, not seeing the issue, then asked, "Is that bad?"

* * *

_"Itadakemasu" is said in prayer before eating. It means, essentially, Thank you for preparing this wonderful food that I am about to eat. Its also a polite way to signal the being of something, usually a meal. Cultural note - Japanese women tend to make food for the men they crush on._


End file.
